Define: Normal
by WeatherWatch
Summary: When you've got the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, a Metamorphmagi with an identity crisis, a part-werewolf, Veela genes, an ambitious muggleborn, the French ancestors and the full force of the Weasleys in your family, normal isn't easy.


**DISCLAIMER:**** All characters are the genius of JK Rowling. We understand that by now.**

**Define: Normal**

How does a kid turn out normal? When you've got the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, a Metamorphmagi with an identity crisis, a part-werewolf, Veela genes, an ambitious muggleborn, the French ancestors and the full force of the Weasleys in your family, it's not at all easy.

OoOoOoO

**#1. You can't choose your family.**

Louis Weasley was fifteen years old, of sound theoretical mind, and not without the ethereal beauty his mother's part-Veela genes had blessed the Delacour-Weasley children with, giving them pale pink hair instead of the ghastly red that only their father, Bill, could really carry off with unimpeded style.

He was a part of a large and loving family who knew everybody's business and weren't ashamed to gossip shamelessly about each other at parties, public or private, but would rear up in a fiery defence should someone other than their closest acquaintances make a disparaging remark.

If he were to be brutally honest with himself, it was a miracle that the large majority of his family were allowed to wander the streets, as opposed to being locked up in St Mungo's, trussed up in strait jackets and restrained from bearing down upon poor Wizarding Britain with their fancy ideas, innovative ideals and blatant disregard for propriety and processes and correct procedure.

Despairingly, that was only the English side of the family. The French ancestors, as it were, went back thousands of years, were involved in the French court, had a wide variety of properties across the French countryside and a prettily refurbished apartment in Paris. They were rather more interested in tradition and aloofness than world-changing heroics – as the Weasley-Potter clan were wont to do.

It was these very family affiliations that found Louis and his two sisters standing embarrassedly to the side of a very angry Harry Potter, who was vocally and unrelentingly remonstrating Teddy for offending the blushing waiter with his lewd suggestions, while their parents acted all lovey-dovey over in their private booth. It was a good thing they were the only customers who had chosen to sit inside – not that anyone else would have fitted after the Potters plus Teddy Lupin, the Granger-Weasleys, Delacour-Weasleys and other assorted Weasleys had infiltrated the small coffee shop – because if anyone knew how to make a scene it was the Weasley Clan and its extended branches.

"Honestly, Teddy, what were you thinking? No, don't answer that, I don't want to know." Harry said quickly. Teddy merely smirked back at his Godfather, winking lustily at Victoire, who tilted her delicate face away from the scene to cover her rising blush.

"I ain't doing anything inappropriate." Teddy argued, his usual turquoise hair turning black in conjunction with the wounded puppy look that he appropriated to guilt Harry into feeling bad for ruining his youthful and harmless fun. "Besides, you'd best be putting on a more composed front before the paparazzi get another picture of you being harsh to the 'poor orphaned Lupin child'."

Harry scowled. "I wish you'd stop contriving things to make yourself look pitiful for them. You're more privileged than most adults."

"But they lap it up like honey milk, and I am a pitiful little thing to be coddled and fussed over."

"Teddy." Hermione said reproachfully. "Mind your godfather."

The Metamorphmagus just grinned, and ate a scoop of ice-cream.

"Please, Teddy, just stop trying to proposition the male waiters. It's cruel to lead them on like that." Harry practically begged of his godson.

"Fine." Teddy sighed dramatically. "But witches and muggle lasses are still fair game."

Harry – sensing that he couldn't drag out any better result than that – agreed half-heartedly and resigned himself to eating his toffee ice cream in silence.

Bill's scarred face, both a little frightening and fully awe-inspiring to those who didn't know the family man, was lit up with unhindered adoration for his wife, even as he demolished a blood red, almost completely raw steak; a side effect of the were-wolf scars that affected him both inside and out. Fleur, proving her remarkable countenance, wasn't bothered in the slightest by the blood that seeped from the meat despite her husband's nigh-perfect manners (drilled in so he wouldn't embarrass anybody at French social functions), and was looking pretty sappy, exuding intoxicating waves of Veela charm in her distracted state, almost knocking out the poor, victimised waiter who had earlier been the subject of Teddy's attentions. Louis looked away when his father started to get the dopey expression that was almost always a prelude to some pretty serious, inappropriate, parental snogging.

"It's all coming together quite wonderfully, actually." Hermione was saying when he tuned back into the conversation. "The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures were quite happy to listen to what I had to say after Templeton was out of commission."

Louis would have flinched at the gleeful tone of voice, but years of exposure to his aunt had wittled that reaction down severely, and now he merely pondered curiously the fate of this unfortunate Templeton fellow.

"Millie told me he'll been allowed out of St Mungo's next Tuesday, back to work, and as good as knew if he wants the position back." She gave the table a sharky smile. "'Wants' being the operative word – I doubt he'll feel safe at the Ministry for a while yet."

Hermione Granger-Weasley was the scariest woman Louis had ever met, surpassing even Teddy's Grandmother Andromeda Tonks and his own Great-great-Aunt Axelle from his mother's side. The thing that made Hermione so fearsome was the very delicate way in which she commanded respect and/or demanded fear. Retribution was something she was very, very good at, and she hid beneath her prim and proper exterior like a chameleon; hiding in plain sight.

She wasn't one to bother with petty grudges, only acting when things directly affected herself, her family or her ideals, and the gaining of Rights for Magical Creatures was one of her biggest ambitions. She was more driven than a vampire on his first blood-lust, and twice as dangerous if you got on her bad side. Louis suspected that his two uncles, Ron and Harry, had discovered this rather quickly in their school years, and now they were something akin to lackeys when she required their aid (not that it was very often, but sometimes the Boy-Who-Lived and the final third of the Golden Trio were needed to make an impression).

"Incidentally, the Fair Employment Act was passed, so werewolves and part wizards will be able to apply for jobs without fear of discrimination." The muggleborn witch continued pleasantly, feeling quite happy for herself in the success of this latest venture. "Rose has been rather successful at school herself, staging a protest for the mistreatment of Aragog's children and gaining their implicit trust – no mean feat, that!" Hermione informed the group proudly, with a fond smile toward her oldest child.

Flame-haired Rose looked pleased and began explaining how she had managed to get on the giant spiders' good side, and Louis, who had been at school during the aforementioned protest, let his attention wander once again to find a more interesting topic for discussion.

A half hour later found the group leaving the café in a cacophony of sounds that ranged from the screeching of chair legs against the tiles, protestations at leaving, and last minute requests to visit Quidditch shops and bookstores.

Louis walked with his parents, purposefully ignoring the way they held each others' hands and shared sly, loving glances, while his sisters gossiped about fashion and other girly things. His cousins might have been rough and tumble, but he and his sisters were brought up rather more politely (the French family were rather attached to keeping up appearances and behaving traditionally (not that the three Delacour-Weasley children couldn't hold their own on the Quidditch pitch – Dom was a mean chaser and Louis himself was a pretty decent beater when he chose to be)) and so hung back, walking demurely with the adults.

They were only stopped a handful of times on their way to the Leaky, and there were only three photographers which was a nice change, considering that when everyone was together it was usually a field day for the paparazzi crews and they were in everybody's face so much that Harry would blow something up and inform all those in hearing distance that unless they wanted to deal with him personally, they'd best be leaving his family alone for some peace and quiet.

**#2. There is no such thing as normal.**

Sunday Dinner was always taken at the Burrow, if only to please Gamma Molly and get the latest off the Ginger-Grapevine, and so it was that the younger family members found themselves in the back garden discussing all manner of obscure topics while they waited for dinner to be served, occasionally throwing a gnome over the fence if they ever managed to catch one of the cheeky buggers.

Rose was regaling Lily with stories about Garawod, one of the younger Acromantulas whom she had befriended, re-enacting scenes and generally giving it her all (she never went at anything less).

Al was mucking around with Hugo, having a bit of a fight with some of the more game gnomes and eventually the Weasley cousin succeeding in tossing one past the tree stump in the distance.

"Nice." Al praised his younger relative's throw. "That's gotta be fifty odd feet. What's the Weasley record again?"

"Fifty-six, I think Uncle George said."

"I'm going to measure it." Al stated, and climbed over the low stone wall to do just that. When he returned, he was beaming.

"Fifty-eight feet, Hugo. You're the new champion!" He clapped Hugo on the shoulder in a jovial way, and called the news to his brother and Louis, but their small celebration was overwhelmed, unsurprisingly, by Teddy's carrying voice which echoed about the yard in a distressed manner, calling everybody's attention to him.

"What if I'm actually a woman?" He was imploring, looking pitifully at Victoire who was clearly trying to contain hysterical laughter. "Who knows? I don't! I've been changing appearances since I was born and I could have just subconsciously adapted to Harry's form!"

Lily was about the only person moved by his speech because she was young and silly and so awestruck by her older, pseudo-cousin that she didn't ever doubt anything he said, a power which he indulged in shamelessly. But Lils was his favourite almost-sister, even if she was a bit of a ninny sometimes, and he looked out for her so nobody really minded.

"Maybe I'm actually horribly deformed, because I can change my appearance at will, and I'm supposed to have breasts instead of these well-formed pectorals."

James and Al were snickering, because, regardless of age, Potter males were wont to find anything to do with sex or anatomy unnaturally hilarious. Rose was trying to keep an amused expression off her face, desiring to remain above her cousins' low level of entertainment.

"What if I have a womb, and I'm doing the Wizarding world a great disservice by falsely claiming to be a wizard?" He kept on, waving his arms dramatically, his hair colour changing every four seconds or so. The bubblegum pink his mother had favoured was rather fetching on him, actually, Louis observed casually.

The youngest Delacour offspring raised an eyebrow when Teddy flung himself down before Victoire, clasping her hands in both of his, remarking loudly that he could never know the truth.

"I've loved you from afar, my heart twisted inside of me with confusion and uncertainty of my gender. I wish it were a man, I should be."

Vicki's eyes twinkled with joy and amusement, and she smiled at the once-more turquoise-haired boy. "Mon homme bête, I think I too should be greatly indisposed if you were to be a woman." Victoire told him solemnly, though her eyes belied the grave sentiment.

"Oh?" Teddy responded with a smirk.

"Oui. Vraiment." Victoire affirmed. "Because then I would find doing this much less appealing."

She kissed him quite unexpectedly, and the younger girls giggled and goggled at the scene, while the boys alternated between cat-calls and groans. Louis rolled his eyes, but observed as Teddy rose to embrace Victoire, apparently pretty content to keep snogging her right there in the garden. In her lust-filled daze, Victoire was sending out the Veela magic in waves, but because they were all related to her (bar Teddy, and really the seductive Veela magic was a good thing for him) the cousins were all beginning to feel a bit nauseous.

"Get a room," James called out loudly, breaking any lingering romantic residue by adding, "You horny Hippogriff spawns."

Lily cuffed him about the head.

Teddy grinned at Victoire, who was blushing prettily and trying to fix her mussed hair. "I have seriously considered this issue before now, you know – if I was actually a woman."

"I don't doubt you have wondered…I don't doubt you've experimented." Vicki noted wryly, folding her arms and registering that all of their cousins were currently staring at them with a variety of expressions – from nausea to joy to a carefully devised indifference. "Don't you kids have things to do?" She asked, glaring at them. They scarpered, Louis and Hugo trailing behind James, Al and Rose as Dom and Lily went off to find their less weird cousins from the George-Angelina and Percy-Audrey branches of the Weasley Family Tree.

"Our family is disturbingly strange." Rose said, shaking her head.

"You can say that again." Louis agreed whole-heartedly, leaning against the wall of the chicken shed that they'd ended up behind. "Only in our family would the discussion of cross-gender transformation possibilities be considered an average on the strange scale, and a precursor to snogging."

His cousins laughed moving on to Hugo's recent gnome-throwing success, and wandered over to where the lone great oak stood, an old but sturdy tree house still mounted in its branches. They climbed the hanging ladder in a practiced manner, and sat in a circle, just as they had as kids before the Hogwarts days.

The part-Veela cocked his head to the side in thought over this most recent development in the Delacour-Weasley household. Victoire had dated boys before, the ones that seemed less affected by her Veela charms, and all had been very proper and respectful, many in awe of her family's role in the war and always very polite to the family and siblings. Teddy on the other hand, was anything but propriety. He was a veritable wreck-of-the-Hesperus, and found enjoyment in silly games and tricks, had taken pleasure in any number of flings with girls at Hogwarts; to be frank, he was nothing like the sort of boy the French family members would be looking for their eldest granddaughter to be hanging around.

"Vic and Teddy, eh; never would have guessed it."

Not even Louis would have expected it of his sister to have decided Teddy to be a suitable boyfriend, but Weasleys never did things by the book, and, really, that should have been warning enough, and explained everything.

**#3. Hic Sunt Leones - Here there are Lions.**

When the whole of his family, meaning both sets of relations, was gathered in one particular spatial area, Louis was forever preparing himself for bloodshed - 'French' and 'Weasley' seemed only to successfully come together in Bill and Fleur.

The House of Lions was notorious for producing brave wizards and witches, but it continuously failed to encourage any form of delicacy or tact in its children.

Presently – Louis surveyed the room quickly – Uncle Charlie was having a Firewhiskey induced row with cousin Phillipe about which dragon breed was most inclined to incinerate you, and whether the Peruvian Vipertooth would be able to take down a Ukrainian Ironbelly due to its superior flight skills and smaller, more agile size.

Gamma and his Grand-mère were discussing pastries, and through the civil words he could clearly hear the unimpressed tones that told him neither of the witches believed the other to be anything more than an arrogant nuisance who knew nothing about cooking at all. Gamma Weasley was looking to be in a right huff, though his French Grand-mère would never let herself be seen so – she was of the inexpressive generation, and preferred to be taken down with the vapours when in her own rooms.

James and Al, being naturally competitive, had taken it upon themselves to challenge Aunt Gabrielle's sons – Francois, Pierre and Napoleon – to an obscure game that involved sculling Butterbeers and answering questions which Louis was fairly certain he didn't want to hear. The all boy company was drawing reproving glances from the French adults, and were mostly being ignored by the English in their regular manner.

Dominique was with Teddy and Victoire, smiling happily. At least there was no conflict in that corner, Louis contented himself.

In fact, the whole event had been almost civil.

As soon as the thought popped into his head, Louis tried to un-think it, but it was too late. The universal curse of 'they-spoke-too-soon' was activated.

"I have never been so offended in my life." Great-great-Aunt Axelle expounded violently, replacing her champagne on the table with a heavy hand, glaring at Ginny with the anger of a thousand French ancestors.

The heavy, blue velvet curtain in the corner went up in flames.

"Excuse me?" Ginny shrieked. "You're offended? I think out of either of us, I have the rights to be offended!"

"Of what? It's the truth, I tell you." Great-great-Aunt Axelle might have been ancient and tiny, but she gave as good as she got, and was by no means a wilting flower.

"You self-righteous, snobby, old cow!"

"Vulgar, carrot headed, shrew!"

"Oh, that does it!" Ginny stormed over to Harry, metaphorical hackles raised. "Harry, I can't take it anymore, that horrid old sack has insulted my femininity again!"

Cue rude, indignant finger pointing in offender's general direction. It had the general effect of initiating a gang-war.

Arthur and Mr Delacour, who had, to their credit, always acted reasonably amicably at these functions watched from the sidelines as everything began to capitulate, and Mr Delacour even rescued the flaming curtain as an afterthought, dousing it with water from his wand.

James and Al, seeking an opportunity, sprinted over to the food table and with a warning yell of 'food fight' began sending out food missiles (generally aiming for the French family members).

Teddy looked distinctly amused, though Victoire could probably have frozen the most alcoholic of punches with a mere glance. Teddy took the chance to disappear out onto the balcony with his girl, and Louis had a pretty fair idea of what they were planning on doing. Or, at least, what Teddy was planning on distracting Vicki with – a pretty thorough snog.

Louis himself stole out into the corridor, not wanting to get foodstuffs on his best robes, nor in his soft pink hair.

"Bonjour, mon fils de loup." One of the portraits greeted. It was Jacques Delacour, his Great grandfather, a pointy fellow with a neatly trimmed black beard and agile hunting dogs hovering about his chair as he sat and drank a glass of burgundy. "How goes the celebrations?"

"Poorly, sir." Louis sighed. "There was a fire and food-fight as I left – oh, not to forget the apparently mortally offensive comments."

"It has always been that way. We are a proud family, and traditional. You Weasleys are rather divergent from our regular company."

Merlin, Louis hated the holier-than-thou attitude the French ancestors always took up.

"We Weasleys might be different but we are a brave and humble sort, and I think you'll find it a privilege for our family to be linked with one of such an unwavering Light background. Not to mention the Lupins, who are also heroes of the War." Louis responded coolly. It was his least favourite thing about coming to the French home; the portraits were always so slighting and dismissing of his Weasley roots, and even now he could hear them talking under the breath in French.

Jacques stifled a sneer. It was his descendant after all.

"Hic Sunt Leones." Louis continued. "Here there are Lions. Nowhere does that ring more true than in the Weasley line. I would hold my tongue on my English heritage if I were you Great-grandfather."

Any further discussion was absolved by the appearance of Rose and Dominque, who had managed to flee the scene inside mostly unscathed and with expressions of utmost humour.

"How are any of us going to end up normal," Rose wondered in disbelief. "-if we have to put up with this for the rest of our lives?"

"Or, at the very least, how are we going to end up without any serious psychological scarring." Dominique interrupted, plucking a strawberry from her hair. "Honestly. It's like living in an asylum sometimes."

Louis looked at them, and then back at the closed door – from behind which sporadic yells (indicating hit targets) could be heard amongst the shouting parents and maniacal laughter that was all James.

"Define 'normal'. Because I'm pretty sure that 'normal' and 'Weasley' parted ways a long time ago, and the French have no taste for the average." He noted, before giving the girls a resigned glance. "I think I need some chocolate."

The three young Weasleys stealthily made their way down to the kichens, where perhaps they might be able to maintain some sense of normality. Other peoples' normality, that is; when you've got the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, a Metamorphmagi with an identity crisis, a part-werewolf, Veela genes, an ambitious muggleborn, the French ancestors and the full force of the Weasleys in your family, normal doesn't come easily.

**End.**

**Random. It just appeared on the page. I wasn't really expecting it at all, but here it is.**


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